


Gone To The Other Side

by MrsMess



Series: Bluegirls Come In Every Size [4]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Book-rec, Books, Christmas Special, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Ghosts of Christmas, Love, POV Alternating, POV Female Character, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Present Tense, Traditions, Very fluffy, budding friendship, by my standards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMess/pseuds/MrsMess
Summary: "Jess is gonna introduce a Christmas tradition?” Lorelai repeats.”Seems like it.””With Emily present?””Yup.””Boy, this is gonna be awkward.””There, there.” [Rory] says, but has to admit that she’s a bit nervous now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this Christmas Special because apparently I'm a nutcase, who's not satisfied with three fics in three weeks. I couldn't tell you why I did this, but now it's here: equal parts book-rec and Christmas-fic. The story is part of the Bluegirls Come In Every Size-series and timeline and takes place a year from now :)  
> It's extremely un-beta:d since I prioritized publishing it.  
> Happy holidays!

[EMILY]  
It's Christmas Eve and they've just done away with dinner in the relatively cramped apartment. Richard is sitting on a blanket lined with protective pillows next to the easy chair keeping Emily. Her eyes are locked lovingly at the child who in turn is captivated by the ears on his stuffed bunny. She's not impressed by the apartment as expected, but is handling it a lot better than she would have a few years ago; No backhanded remarks, or offers to help upgrade them which apparently is equally rude even in the form of a kindness. She's actually proud of herself. It's harder to get with the program on her granddaughter's civil status. Her first memory of Jess is still quite animate and it bleeds into this older, more temperate version of him. He's generally quiet, polite, but eyes still unyielding, and the fact that he smiles so rarely, and that any charm he might possess is dimmed beneath her level of perception makes her uncomfortable. It's such a stark contrast to Rory, and Lorelai for that matter, even though the latter seems to have found a way of her own to relate to him. On the surface not much has changed, but there's warmth between them now, evident in casual touches and a slight increase in snark which they both seem to enjoy for some reason. It makes Emily feel a strange kind of loneliness. Like she's the only one outside the circle. She misses Richard. Big Richard, that is. Usually she doesn't feel vulnerable, but this evening, this place, these new relationships... She's grateful for Little Richard's presence, it anchors her to a purpose, a longing she can accept.

 

[LORELAI]  
Lorelai feels her mother's discomfort across the room of course, who's idea was this again? Right. Her very own, should have known that.

"It's an important ritual, Rory! You need to invite people for some sort of holiday celebration when you move someplace new. Until you do that it won't really be your home!"

What kind of crazy talk was that? How many cups of coffee had she had at that point? And Rory had listened to her! Had she learnt nothing through the years? She can just imagine her daughter coming home and telling her beau about that. She plays up different disasterous versions of the scene in her mind for funsies for a few seconds before accepting that the reality probably was much less dramatic, more pragmatic, involving some sort of weird bribe relating to Hemingway, or quite possibly just quiet acceptance from said beau. This is all her and Emily, right? Any idea that might seem obvious to her usually shrivels when in the floodlight gaze of Emily Gilmore. However, Rory seems unfaced by her grandmother's obvious contempt. Skipping about the kitchen, dancing to the music from the computer speakers, she and Jess crisscrossing around each other like only a live-in couple could in this small space, one picking out coffee cups, and another bowls and icecream. Lorelai glares at them. Be real hosts already and join the awkwardness! But Rory walks up to the coffee table with a tray filled with Chinaware, and then promptly gets on the floor next to Little Richard, instantly slipping into her parent-bubble, a place immune to all adult etiquette. Jess comes into the living room, which is really just an extension of the kitchen, puts the pot of coffee and carton of icecream on the table and moves over to Rory. Lorelai sees now that he too notices the stiffness of the situation. He looks more tense than usual and even a bit... oh my gosh, is that nervousness? He squats next to Rory and presses a discrete kiss to her temple, whispers something in her ear which makes her take notice; She turns her head to face him and smiles broadly. He gets up and walks towards the adjacent bedroom.  
”Care to share with the rest of the class?” Lorelai calls desperately. Jess turns and shoots her a somewhat strained smile.  
”Soon.” He says while exiting the room.

 

[RORY]  
”I dug out a christmas tradition, I was gonna do it now.” He whispers. She's stunned.  
Now she gets up and sits next to her mother, while Luke is busy pouring the coffee for everyone.  
”What’s up?” Lorelai asks.  
”I don’t really know,” Rory responds. ”We were talking about holiday traditions a couple of weeks back and I wanted him to share one of his.” It’s a slight adornment, it was a talk turned fight, really.  
”Well, it's Christmas tomorrow.”  
”That’s the point I think, he didn’t wanna do anything with Liz around, but I also thought he didn’t wanna do anything, period.” She tries to remember his exact words at the time.

”You don’t understand.” He said when their conversation was escalating. ”That thing you and your mom got; the wacky rituals you sustain together, you do that because you only have good memories between you – you wanna know what’s between me and Liz? Pain, mostly, and denial. Our relationship works on the premise that we don’t talk about the past. And reenacting some sad, old habit would definitely-" He took a sharp breath. "It wouldn’t be good.”  
He was obviously upset at that point, but she couldn't let it be.  
”But I want to know that stuff about you.” She tried. ”I want to understand.”  
"You're better off not getting it. Don't you see that?"  
"When you're in a family you put in part of yourself. I'm sure there's something!"  
”Fine.” He fumed, face dark from anger. ”What do you feel like doing? We could invite a bunch of strangers over for a three day binge. Or we could go out to a bar and leave Richard in the corner next to that crazy lady who keeps talking to herself. Or better yet, let the neighbors take him for Christmas Eve and then forget about him ’til Boxing Day!”  
”Jess!” Her interruption was supposed to sound wronged but came out almost panicked. His face had changed at that, in an instant, all anger gone, replaced by regret.  
”I’m sorry.” He pulled her into a hug. ”God, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid."  
She’d stood there, buried in his arms, bitter by the loss, but relieved that the fight was over, so she’d just let it go.

"Jess is gonna introduce a Christmas tradition?” Lorelai repeats.  
”Seems like it.”  
”With Emily present?”  
”Yup.”  
”Boy, this is gonna be awkward.”  
”There, there.” She says, but has to admit that she’s a bit nervous now.  
Jess comes back with an old duffel bag of his and puts it down next to his feet. He looks so lost that she has to fight the urge to run up and hold his hand through the whole thing, whatever it is. She captures his gaze instead and smiles at him. He takes a visible breath at this and clears his throat.  
”So, Rory and I were talking traditions and about maybe making some of our own, and technically, Christmas isn’t until tomorrow, and this isn’t really a tradition, because I don’t think it lasted long enough to... I should have looked up the definition before. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, I guess.”  
He’s rambling. It’s a first. Rory can’t help a quick glance at Emily. She's sitting still, solemn, and Rory suddenly understands exactly what Lorelai means in her rants about what Emily projects even when she's doing nothing. While trailing the room she also observes Luke. He’s anxious and she shoots him a helpless smile which he tries to return unsuccessfully. Jess continues.  
”Anyway, this was back when I was maybe seven. And Liz' boyfriend after her third husband-”  
”Roger,” Luke fills in, eyes on Emily. ”He was an entrepreneur-”  
”He was a screw-up, like the others.” Jess interrupts him sternly, while they lock eyes and have one of their wordless power struggles. ”But he was a kind man. He taught me card tricks, and would read to me, even long after he needed to. He was always sober on christmas eve, so we'd spend the night on the couch and he'd read sections from his favorite books to me. That went on for three years. Long enough for me to remember it was a thing.”  
This is possibly the most Jess has ever spoken about his past in other terms than the generally bad, and the fact that she’s sharing her life with him and never asked him about it in further detail shakes her. That's why she can’t contain herself now.  
”Then what?”  
Luke answers.  
”He passed away.”  
Jess steps in once more, apparently taking issue with Luke's beautification.  
”He went on a bender following New Year's and fell asleep in the snow.”  
Her empathy takes over.  
”Jess!” She whimpers.  
”Rory!” He says firmly, maybe more so than intended, because he pauses for a moment. ”Can I talk to you?”  
”You have the floor, young man,” Emily says strictly. ”You shouldn’t excuse yourself when you do.”  
”Mom!”  
”Grandma!” Lorelai and Rory protest in unison.  
”I’m sorry, Emily,” Jess says steadily. ”It’ll just be a minute.” He grabs Rory’s hand and they walk in to the kitchen. He lowers his voice. ”Rory, I need you to help me. I didn't do this for a group therapy session, I did it for you. Because you asked me to... contribute.”  
”I didn't say you had to-” She starts.  
”Well, that was the implication; Bring something of yours. Only I don't really have anything appropriate to offer. But maybe this. Three lousy incidents more than twenty years ago. Except I can't do this, if you're falling apart at the same time. I can deal with Luke, he can't help himself when it comes to Liz, but you... I haven’t even gotten to the point yet, and I feel like I just wanna tell everyone to get lost.”  
”I'm sorry.”  
”Look, I get it. It’s a lot. Like everything else with us; we should have done this sooner. You were right, it is important, and I want you to understand. But I was... afraid that I couldn’t go through with it if I didn’t just-”  
She shushes him, and leads him by the hand back into the living room, lets go of him and sits down, leaving him in his former position. He frowns and scratches his head.  
”Where was I? Kind man, right. Grown man. And the books would be way over my head sometimes, but not always, and wildly inappropriate for my age mostly, but that was sort of the basis for their appeal. Anyhow, I thought I’d bring you books with marked sections to read. There’s one for everyone, I wrote a name in the binder, and that’s who it’s for, but anyone can do the reading. If you wanna keep doing it, we’ll make it different, better, next time. I just wanted to make sure there was something for everyone.”  
Rory stares at him. She’s both proud of him for having the guts to do this and skittish over how it will work out.  
”I’ll start.” He says. ”My idea. It’s only fair.” He reaches into the bag and digs around until finally grasping a book and pulling it up. He smiles.  
”Great. This one is for Emily. It’s Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.” He opens the book to the marked section and starts reading, while pacing slowly.

 

[EMILY]  
”’The birth is just the start. It’s the upbringing that’s important. It’s the influences. Otherwise the child will never learn to use its powers.’ He hesitated. ’At least, not necessarily as intended.’  
’Certainly our side won't mind me thwarting you,’ said Aziraphale thoughtfully. ’They won’t mind that at all.’  
’Right. It’d be a real feather in your wing.’ Crowley gave the angel an encouraging smile.  
’What will happen to the child if it doesn’t get a Satanic upbringing, though?’ Said Aziraphale.  
’Probably nothing. It’ll never know.’  
’But genetics-’  
’Don’t tell me from genetics. What’ve they got to do with it?’ Said Crowley. ’Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you’re going to go on about genetics, you might as well say that the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he’ll grow up to be a demon just because his father became one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will give birth to tailless mice.’”

  
Jess closes the book and hands it over to Emily. She accepts it while digesting the read words. Funny.  
”What’s it about?” She asks with a small smile.  
”Nature versus nuture.” He answers without missing a beat. ”What you get and how you use it. It’s your turn.” He hands her the bag and sits down for the first time since dinner, right there on the floor next to Richard. Emily sighs but puts her hand down the bag pulling up the first book she comes across.  
”Surfacing by Margaret Atwood. For Lorelai.” She reads. She takes a sip of coffee before opening the book at the bookmark.

”’How do you manage it?’ I said.  
She stopped humming. ’Manage what?’  
’Being married. How do you keep it together?’  
She glanced at me quickly as though she was suspicious. ’We tell a lot of jokes.’  
’No but really,’ I said. If there was a secret trick I wanted to learn it. She talked to me then, or not to me exactly but to an invisible microphone suspended above her head: people’s voices go radio when they give advice. She said you just had to make an emotional commitment, it was like skiing, you couldn’t see in advance what would happen but you had to let go. Let go of what, I wanted to ask her; I was measuring myself against what she was saying.  
Maybe that was why I failed, because I didn’t know what I had to let go of. For me it had been like jumping off a cliff. That was the feeling I had all the time I was married; in the air, going down, waiting for the smash at the bottom.”

  
She looks at her daughter who meets her eyes, and smiles.  
”Thanks mom.” She says for no real reason.  
”You’re gonna love this, mom!” Rory says, almost bouncing on the couch. ”Atwood is amazing!” She looks at Jess and smiles brightly at him. He returns the look with such warmth that Emily has to swallow before speaking.  
”You’re welcome, Lorelai.”  
As she passes Lorelai the book and the bag, Richard starts crying, tired of his predicament on the floor. She reaches for him and almost collides with Jess who’s also aiming to pick him up. Their heads are close, and Emily is caught off guard by it. He smiles.  
”Go on. You take him.”  
”Really?”  
”Absolutely. I do this every day, it’s good to get a break.  
She smiles back and picks up Richard who calms down once he’s in her lap. He leans back against her and she buries her nose in his downy blonde hair, heart soaring.

 

[LORELAI]  
Lorelai watches the interaction with raised eyebrows. The vibe off Emily is different following it. Comfortable.  
She digs through the bag and grabs hold of a book that looks suspicously like it belongs in a library. She glares at Jess.  
”Don’t look at me!” He says, hands up. ”It’s Roger’s old copy. He had sticky fingers and strange taste.”  
”The Medusa Frequency. Russell Hoban.” She opens the cover. ”It’s for you, Luke.” She seats herself facing him, clears her throat and reads:

”’Why are you telling me your story?’  
’I am that which responds,’ said the head. ’I’ve told you that. You said yes three times and I was compelled to tell my story.’  
’Before I said yes three times you asked me three times if I wanted to hear the story.’  
’Well, it’s a story that wants to be told, isn’t it.’  
’And you made me take it on me that the story would be finished,’ I said. ’Why did you do that?’  
’The story is different every time,’ said the head, ’and every time there are difficulties – I always need help with it and I’m always afraid it won’t go all the way to the end.’  
’Different each time. How can that be?’  
’How can it not be? A story is a thing that changes as it finds new perceptions, new ideas.’  
’Fallok was trying to do it with music,’ I said. ’How far did he get?’  
’Not very.’  
’What do you think my chances are?’  
’I don’t know,’ said the head. ’But if you can’t do it there’ll be somebody else.’  
’You mean if we can’t do it.’  
’Yes of course. Didn’t I say we?’  
’No, you didn’t. Why do you have to keep going through the story over and over?’  
’It’s got to come out differently one day,’ said the head.”

Lorelai finishes and looks at Luke. Luke in turn looks a Jess.  
”This made you think of me?”  
”I didn’t say the sections had anything to do with anyone, did I? But yes, for several reasons.”  
”What possible reasons-?”  
”Read the book. Figure it out.”  
Richard whimpers in Emily’s lap. Jess and Rory both stand up.  
”I’ll get him ready for bed,” Jess says. ”You’re up next. You should listen.”  
Rory agrees by silently sitting down again while Jess picks up Richard and exits the room. Luke reaches into the duffel bag, and pulls out what appears to be the last book.  
”Mouth to Mouth” Luke reads. ”By Nina Lekander.” He opens the book to the marked page and continues:

 

[RORY]  
”Longing is the most horrendous of emotions because it's imprinted by incapacity and unreality. Incapacity, since the object of your thoughts is absent and untouchable instead of acting, willing, handable, subject. Unreality, since the object of your thoughts is absent and untouchable instead of acting, willing, handable, subject. Incapacity, because it's so unreal. Unreal, because it's so incapacitated. Incapacity because you've become nothing but completely insane. Unreal, because it's so inexplicable that you can't be anything but an effing lunatic. Because, or in spite of so many people's huge, echoing longing there are few forms of expression or rituals that serve as vents for it, and its subsequent rage. A temporary and pretty decent substitute, is rock music. Concerts in particular.”

Luke shakes his head, and hands over the book to Rory. She smiles, mostly to herself.  
”Thank you, Luke.” She says, and turns to look at Jess who's standing in the doorway watching, holding a very sleepy Richard in clean pj’s. ”There’s no book for you.” She remarks.  
”Huh.” He says.  
She smiles secretively.  
"What?"  
"Just wait." She says and runs into the bedroom. She pulls out a shopping bag from a corner that's filled with Christmas presents, stuffed in with them is the proof of her book, which she picked up yesterday, but hasn't had time to adress to anyone. She flips through the it to find the right passage. She takes a deep breath and feels her heartbeat pick up.  
"Okay." She says to herself and walks back into the living room.  
Jess sees what's in her hands and protests.  
"Oh no! What are you gonna read?"  
He tries to take the book from her but is hindered by the baby in his arms, she easily out-manouevers him.  
"Don't be silly. They'll read it eventually anyway. And I did a re-write, which you didn't edit! Don't assume you know everything."  
He steps back and leans against the wall, silently consenting.  
"Gilmore Girls, by Rory Gilmore. For Jess." She gulps and reads:

"He was like a force of nature. But not the kind you usually picture when you use that expression. More like earth than a storm, tsunami or fire or something like that, even though my mother would have described him in any of those ways if given the opportunity. Although being with him had been like standing on hot asphalt at times, the fight was a quake removing the ground from under me completely. I was held up by mom and momentum. And while most of me moved on without second thoughts, a part of me needed him back in order to recover."  
She looks up at him. He looks a bit concerned.  
"Is that it?"  
She smiles at him.  
"No way, mister." She purrs.  
He laughs.  
"I hope not. I'd like a kinder description."  
"It gets better." She hands him the book.  
"You two are nauseating." Lorelai whines. She gets up and walks over anyway, throwing her arms around them both. "Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the books and the tradition, Jess. We should go. Big day tomorrow."  
Luke and Emily gets up as well.  
"We'll come with you for a walk." Rory says. "Richard likes to fall asleep in his pram, and I wanna look at the lights."

  
They wrap up Richard in his sliding bag, put on their winter coats and head out in the December night. The town square is white with snow and Christmas lights. Rory turns to Lorelai.  
"Can you take Richard around the square? I wanna look at the lights with my boyfriend."  
"Sure, kid."  
She walks off in the opposite direction as soon as Lorelai has hold of the handle, her palm stretched towards him behind her body. As she feels his hand close around hers she reels him in, wrapping him around her.  
"I thought you wanted to see the lights."  
"Isn't that what I'm doing?"  
"You are such a dork."  
She just looks at him enamoured. He shifts his weight.  
"Can you stop looking at me like that?"  
"Okay. Do you really want me to stop?"  
"No."  
"You're pretty when you smile."  
"Shut up."  
"Make me."

When they go to bed that night they lie with their heads close together whispering a conversation. More of a series of monologues really, interupted by her kisses, tears and apologies. He doesn’t cry. He’s relieved. To open the flood gates. To be strong enough to comfort her. That’s a big thing, he’s holding her and being held, and can’t believe he denied them this for so long.


End file.
